When my GP worked out the estimated date of birth of our baby she exclaimed, "Ah, a little Christmas baby - due on the 20th of December". We soon realised she'd only have to be one week late to be born on her Daddy's birthday.
After a trouble-free pregnancy, the 20th rocked up. I was so disappointed on the day that I hadn't met my baby yet and that there were no indicators that labour would begin any time soon.
I busied myself with preparations for Christmas.
We enjoyed a quiet Christmas with immediate family. It was a great day and I felt really happy that Dave and I could have one last Christmas together as a family of two.
On boxing day, I was feeling niggly cramps all day and didn't want to go out. We cleaned the house a bit and I rested a lot. That night I felt very preoccupied - I couldn't concentrate on anything and so decided to go to bed early.
At 11:45 pm I woke with more intense cramps. I was able to sleep here and there, but gave up at 3am and took a bath. I soon realised that I wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with them on my own. I woke Dave and we cuddled for a while, and I wished him a happy birthday. At 4am we rang Tiff, my sister in law and personal midwife :) to let her know that I thought things were on their way. She and my Mum came over and, bleary-eyed, Tiff confirmed that "this was it", turning my fear into excitement. I would meet my baby today!
I had such fantastic support through the day. Dave massaged my back, did everything he could to try to make me more comfortable and encouraged me with every word he spoke to me. When Mum wasn't busying herself tidying, fixing meals or running out to buy lollies to keep my blood-sugar level up, she sat with me as I tried to rest and I know she prayed for us in her heart - I could feel it. Tiff was amazing. She told me what was happening in my body, helping me to visualise it. She demanded that I eat and drink, coached me through the contractions ensuring I didn't tense up too much. She took me for walks up and down the driveway to keep things moving along, and with every contraction she built me up, ready to face the next one.
By lunchtime, my poor support people and I were knackered. Mum had gone home, we'd called the hospital to say we'd be coming in a bit later, and we all drifted into almost-sleep.
The contractions stepped up another notch and I woke up, feeling a slightly fearful sensation. I wanted to go to the hospital.
When we arrived I had an internal and was informed that I was 6cm dilated. Tiff and Dave were thrilled, I was entirely self-absorbed and not very responsive! The midwife asked if I wanted her to rupture the membranes... I didn't know. I just wanted everything to keep moving along, I wanted to meet my baby. I told her yes, just do it, and yee-har, out it all gushed! She was pleased with the colour, baby's heart-rate was good, so on we went.
The quality of time changed. It was no longer a measurement of hours in a day, but the movement toward a great event, that felt neither fast nor slow - it just moved.
The first urge to push was very powerful. I was on the toilet at the time and a great gush of fluid came out. "Did you feel your baby move down just then?" Tiff asked excitedly. I nodded, and was aware that things were really picking up. We decided I should move to the bed and as I got up and began to move I felt another contraction. It struck me then that they were very close together - it was almost as though there was no time to move before another would come. I made it to the bed and continued to labour there, upright & leaning against the back of the bed. With each contraction there was an urge to push. I was coached to breathe through them, though there were times when that was simply impossible.
Eventually, Carrie the hospital midwife gave me an internal and confirmed that I was fully dilated. In the haze that was my state of mind, I was aware of feeling relieved - it would be over soon and my baby would be here.
What followed was the most difficult battle of my life so far. Like pushing a massive boulder up a hill. With every contraction I would push as hard as I possibly could, three big pushes. I was aware of everyone encouraging me, telling me how very well I was doing, but I was more aware of feeling like I had gotten nowhere. At the end of each contraction Carrie would listen to the baby and make sure she was content, and I would feel like crying and apologising to everyone, mostly my baby, because I felt more hopeless than ever before, and I felt like screaming to them to just cut me open and get the poor thing out!
It was only when Tiff told me that the head wasn't moving backwards anymore that I felt I had the courage to finally birth my baby. Dave was a solid presence beside me, but as her head crowned the only voices I heard were the women.
Did I want to feel the head? I reached down and touched her for the first time - felt her for the first time on the outside of my body. So slippery soft. Then Tiff told me to listen to Carrie, who directed me to gently push, then pant. "Pant, Amy!" "Gentle push, Amy!" "Pant, Amy!" Desperately listening to my instructions through the fascinating burn and the sting and the stretch of my body.
I don't recall feeling the rest of her come into the world, just the relief, the release of pressure, the couple of seconds of disbelieving nothingness before my beauty, my pleasure, my undying love was placed on my tummy.
And I cried as I saw her perfect little face for the first time and loved her like nothing else. Tears flowed as I gazed at my husband and best friend. Look, we said without words, look at what we have!
It's a girl! And she cried the most beautiful husky cry.
